


Shrekles the Xmas Special

by The_Shrekelles



Category: David Bowie (Musician), Elton John (Musician), Led Zeppelin, Queen (Band), Shrek, Shrek The Musical - Tesori/Lindsay-Abaire, The Who (Band)
Genre: Christmas, Classic Rock, Crack, Creepy teacher/student au, Gen, I have been cursed/gifted with the powers of prophecy, Life no longer has meaning, M/M, Multi, Prequel, SO, bad bad bad wrong gross, not to be racist but don’t sleep with ogres
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23625343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Shrekelles/pseuds/The_Shrekelles
Summary: I read Dickens and a history textbook by choice today, I deserve this
Relationships: David Bowie/Shrek, Jimbert if you squint
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	Shrekles the Xmas Special

Shrekles: the Holiday Special Prequel Extravaganza!  
By myself 

Once upon a time, in a castle far, far away, David Bowie and Hogwarts in general was buzzing with excitement. There were only a few days left before school momentarily paused for the winter holidays, which meant one of two things for each of the students. Either you were excited to go home for a fortnight, see your family and your home again, receive gifts, and not worry about classes for a couple of weeks. If that wasn’t the plan, then you were staying at the school, which meant you were excited for a very different reason. For some, this was simply having a quiet, empty school in which to get all their work for the upcoming term done. For most though, staying at the school offered a very different kind of anticipation. You see, remaining at an empty Hogwarts was an invitation to the most exclusive and wild party imaginable to their hormonal teenaged minds.  
While most of the students went home, those few who were content with contacting their families via mail (or preferred Hogwarts to their homes) engaged in enough debauchery to sicken a Roman emperor. For two weeks of the year, most of the chaperones left while Jimmy Page promised to keep his pretty little mouth shut, and everyone went wild. Following in his path, an unspoken vow of secrecy arose around the thing, which meant that being aware of the in-jokes became a sort of status symbol, tantamount to a shining golden metal of coolness.  
And this year, David had convinced his parents to let him stay, meaning that he would get to wear that metal for the rest of the year. Mick Jagger was going home, Elton had agreed to remain, and his parents had sent loads of money in lieu of any presents- everything was perfect. All he had to do was wait for a few days and not piss off any of the kids who were staying, which was a pretty small and exclusive list. Jimmy couldn’t resist the hedonism, neither could Roger Taylor. One would think that the Keiths would stay behind for the same reason, but they were both apparently ready for a break from all that. That or their parents’ houses were too quiet. Pete Townshend wasn’t keen on going back to his insane grandmother, so he always stayed behind. And this year he’d convinced Roger Daltrey to stay with him.  
David had a hard time sitting still and concentrating in his classes that day (luckily his professors were lenient, as literally no one was focussing on the work), up until he got to Onionology. He wasn’t quite sure why, but that class brought out the best in him, academically speaking. He just got it in a way that he hadn’t quite gotten any other subject previously. Onionology made sense to him. Plus, Professor Shrek was a great teacher. He wasn’t condescending, malicious, or dead inside, like all of David’s other Professors. Not only was he passionate about the subject he taught, but he was able to make it accessible and even fun. For David at least, this was not a universal perception if the remarks of others in the dorms were any indication.  
Elton John raced into class just as Prof. Shrek called his name from the role. He sat down next to David, out of breath and grinning with excitement at having gotten away with tardiness. Throughout the first half of class, Elton kept trying to talk to David, met with increasing annoyance as the latter kept shushing him to listen to the Professor. Finally he was granted relief when the ogre passed out assignments and retreated into his office while the gentle murmur of classroom chatter rose around them.  
“What were you trying to tell me?”  
“Hm? Oh yeah, aren’t you excited for the break?” Elton was bouncing one leg as he spoke, leaving no question as to his stance on the issue.  
“Are you joking? Am I excited? Elton I would’ve given an arm and a leg to go to this thing. Picture it: us, measly little fifth-years, going to the most decadent party of the year with all the sixths and sevenths.”  
“This is going to change everything. People will respect us, we’ll get laid, there’ll be sequins-”  
“You have no reason to believe that.”  
“And I have no reason not to.” David shook his head fondly and went back to his assignment. It was nearly finished, and immaculately done too. Even though it was little more than busywork, Professor Shrek was clearly just as ready for the break as his students, David felt bad turning in less than his best to Professor S.  
“I don’t know David, sequins or not, this is what defines us as men.”  
“Yeah, sure. Do you need help?” Elton hadn’t answered a single question on his worksheet.  
“Hm? Oh, no, he’s probably not wasting any time on grading this, right? Wait, do you know who else is staying?”  
“I mean, Jimmy Page is, obviously. And, let’s see, John told me he’s going home because his mom doesn’t have anybody else-”  
“Which John?”  
“Entwistle, obviously.”  
“I heard that all of Jimmy’s friends are going home. He’s on his own.”  
“Are you sure? Because I heard that John Paul Jones is staying here.”  
“From whom?” They gently argued about it for a while before Professor Shrek’s husky brogue came out of his office, interrupting the students’ chatter with the simple demand to turn in their papers. The Professor smiled proudly when he noticed that David was the only student who had finished, and it made his heart skip a beat. Why?

The great hall was filled with commotion as all the students said their goodbyes. Most of them would do so on the train over, but for the students who were staying behind, this was the last time they’d see their friends for a fortnight. David wasn’t really concentrating on the task at hand; his brain was buzzing with anticipation for the decadence that surely was to ensue. He was surveying the crowd; people-watching was one of his favorite hobbies. Robert Plant was visibly upset to be leaving Jimmy behind, David Gilmour and Roger Waters were one-upping each other with dramatic declarations of how glad they were to be apart, and- wait, what? Professor Shrek was saying goodbye to the other professors? He was staying behind?  
It was expected that a few adults remained at the school over the break, if nothing else to ensure that the building didn’t burn down, but they were always the older lonelier ones, not Professor Shrek’s type at all. His wife was going home. And she’s pregnant, too. David knew it would only be two weeks, but something felt tremendously wrong with someone like the Professor - sociable, full of life, animated - to be stuck babysitting perverted British teenagers on two of the biggest holidays of the year.  
Maybe ogres don’t celebrate any winter holidays, David reasoned. But it wouldn’t sit quite right. It would still be a break from the monotony of living in the castle. Didn’t Professor Shrek have family to go back to? He loved to fondly ruminate on his swamp back home, so why would he choose to stay behind, at a musty old castle with no swampland and one of the smallest onion patches in the nation?  
David shook himself out of his head to say goodbye to Freddie and tried to forget about Professor Shrek. David was a fifth-year twink, why did he care about his out-of-shape, middle-aged Professor? If anything, Shrek and his colleagues were supposed to be the objects of ridicule. Ha, fat loser, all alone on Christmas. But even as he thought it, he couldn’t really mean it. But then, as the last call for the train rang through the halls, and the school emptied, David’s mind became occupied with baser things. 

The scene was disconcerting, to say the least. David had been waiting for the crazy sex party to start for four hours now, nothing. He and Elton exchanged a bewildered look and David quietly asked if Elton knew anyone they could ask. He didn’t want to approach Jimmy Page directly, but Roger Taylor was nowhere to be seen, and everyone else was a senior- likely to make fun if he and Elton revealed themselves as n00bs.  
Elton decided to ask Pete Townshend and his friend who totally wasn’t Robert Plant, as he’d done a group project with them a few weeks ago, and assured David that they were nice.  
“Hey, Rog, Pete, remember me?”  
“Elton?” Pete looked up from the bowl of dry, uncooked oats he was consuming. His companion chimed in.  
“Yeah we remember you. What do you want?” David got the sense that, though they were trying to be nice, neither of them was in any mood for conversation. Elton, however, was characteristically undeterred.  
“Isn’t there supposed to be . . . a party right about now?” He was doing a piss-poor job of hiding his anticipation, but luckily the blonde one Roger - Jesus another one? seemed to find it endearing.  
“Yeah, that’ll come soon, but first you’ve got to pre-game.”  
“What does that mean?” David tried not to sound like a scared virgin, but it was honestly unfair that no one had told him what he was supposed to do.  
“Well,” Pete answered, “you basically have to do four things: hydrate, moisturize, rest, and stretch.” Neither David nor Elton could help exchanging a wide-eyed look, eliciting soft laughter from the seventh-years.  
“Um,” nice job making us seem like amateurs, Elton, “ok then, thank you, we will go do that.”  
“No problem,” the - what, this must be the third or fourth, right? - Roger said, before turning back to his friend. “Pete, you know breakfast ended six hours ago, right?”

Elton and David decided to part ways to prepare, and then meet up in the dorms that evening before heading to the Hufflepuff common room, where the alleged sex party took place. Elton ran - although in his shoes running was a fool’s errand - to John Reid’s supply closet, where he knew there was going to be a douche nozzle and lube and stuff. John had gone home for the holidays, to his family in Scotland. As he was trying to find the stuff he needed, Elton started to suspect that he had wandered into the wrong supply closet. But then he reasoned that John was pretty crafty, and that he had likely hidden his more salacious supplies.  
Elton found a squeaky and uneven stool and stood it on a stolen ottoman, hoisted himself up on top of the faulty tower, and lifted a grate in the ceiling. Peeking around the vents, he saw John’s stash, and thought the word bingo to himself, on account of being basic. He made use of his surprising amount of upper-body strength to lift himself into the roof. Elton was slightly nervous crawling around in the tubes, but he was relieved to find that the medieval stonework of the roof could uphold his weight.  
After retrieving the stash, he crawled back to the entrance, only to realize with a cartoonish sense of rising panic that the stools had fallen over. He was ten feet above the ground, and there was no way to get down.  
Elton was stuck.  
Maybe, he thought, if I can get to a different grate, I can get down. But where? There’ll probably be a light. And I definitely won’t starve to death or anything before I find it, right? It was better than breaking his bones jumping and laying there until someone found him - which probably would be the full two weeks until John came back. So, with a quick prayer to a god he didn’t believe in, Elton set off on his perilous trek through the darkness. 

David was done angrily pacing around the dorms; if it had taken Elton this long to prepare, he could miss out. Angrily storming down the hall behind the kitchen, David luckily managed to calm himself into a presentable mood before he reached the entrance to the Hufflepuff dorms, where seemingly everyone was assembled, chatting amicably while waiting for the last remaining stragglers to make their way to the group. It was an amazing thing to watch: David knew for a fact that almost everyone gathered had had drama with multiple other party members, but no one was acknowledging it. They’d put all their pettiness aside for the sake of an orgy. It was beautiful.  
A silence settled over the group, and Nick Mason tapped the passcode in. This was it. David could feel his pulse accelerate. The group made their way through the short passage into the cozy dorms, letting George close the door after them. The speed and efficiency with which shirts were removed and substances were produced was frankly impressive. As Jimmy started passing around blunts and Arthur Kane started to mix everyone a cocktail of whatever cheap liquor they could get their grimy little hands on and enough sugary soda to counter the natural taste, it finally felt real. This is happening. To me!  
As the night went on, David got less and less lucid. At some point the crowd started trickling up the stairs to the dorms, where the beds were. Others were moving towards the sunken in sofa-hole thing in the middle, and David found himself unreasonably fascinated by the image of their (mostly bare) knees sinking into the soft, lemon-yellow cushions. Everything was getting fuzzy around the edges, but he didn’t resist when Jimmy Page casually pushed another glass of disgusting whiskey-ice-cream slurry into his hands. Oh, they’ve run out of soda. At some point, Iggy started chatting him up, leaning against a table. We should hang out more. Then everyone’s attention shifted to the couch-put, seemingly on instinct, as a comment lead to an argument lead to a bet lead to a three way between Rogers Taylor, Waters, and Daltrey.  
There was cheering, and then everyone started to crowd around the scene, obscuring David’s view. He looked to his side, only to find Iggy gone. Hm. Looking around revealed all the decadence he’d signed up for and more. Is that John Deacon?! It was, surprisingly, drenched in butter?! and stumbling around, slipping off of everything he touched like socks on hardwood, looking very confused but providing unlimited entertainment to everyone there. Paul was snorting something off of somebody’s- oh dear. Oh god.  
“What is that?” David whispered to whomever was standing next to him, he’d lost track long ago.  
“It’s ground up fairy bones or some shit. I think. I dunno, they call it snow. You want some?” He held up a little leather pouch, elaborately embroidered with a little lizard that appeared to be moving. David didn’t know if it was because he was drunk or because of magic, but it was pretty. Pretty enough to be distracting, leading the kid to just thrust the satchel into his hands and find somewhere else to be.  
If things were fuzzy before, now the world was an outright blur. There was a hand at the small of his back, a shoulder that he looked over to see a pair of someone’s eyes, encouraging. The boy directly in front of him gestured towards the dorms the beds and David just nodded enthusiastically. 

He was awoken around six in the morning, having gotten about two hours of sleep, when Ray Davies ew, really? pushed him out of the twin bed in the first years’ dorm and onto the floor, hard and cold despite the beautiful Persian rug atop it. David had a headache, and the room wouldn’t stop spinning. Ugh. All of a sudden he wished that Elton was there. David always relied on him for hangover cures, and he had yet to disappoint. However, surveying the room revealed that Elton still hadn’t shown up.  
David stumbled down the stairs, gripping the handrail like life itself, and didn’t see Elton in the main common room either. He forgot to be despondent, however, as the scene in front of him was incredibly distracting. Jimmy Page was slung over the back of a couch, almost nude. Where did they get that apron? The Rogers were still tangled together in the corner of the couch pit. Pete Townshend’s eyebrows had disappeared, replaced with about a quarter pound of blue eyeshadow and fake lashes long enough to reach France. Someone was draped over a light fixture directly above the couch pit, someone else had passed out in the fireplace, there was an unsavory blend of odors permeating the air. And that one kid god what was his name I swear I forget anew every fucking day was covered in chocolate.  
Abruptly, David noticed that he was starving. He hadn’t consumed any nutrition other than peppers and milk for the last couple days; he should probably get on that. Stepping over immobilized teenagers, many of whom hadn’t even gotten to sleep yet, David made his way out of the Hufflepuff dorms and into the hallway behind the kitchen. As he was rifling through the supply freezer, only to find that apparently all their food was premade and frozen like this was goddamned McDonalds or something, David heard footsteps. Normally he would’ve assumed it was another student, looking for a hangover cure or just breakfast, but he could tell that wasn’t the case. The footsteps were loud, and sturdy, and with each one the ground vibrated very subtly. There was only one denizen of Hogwarts whose bulk was substantial enough to shake the furniture from several feet away.  
“Professor Shrek?!” David whipped around to reveal that he was correct; the ogre was the only one in the kitchen with him.  
“Aye.” David relaxed, only now realizing how tense and poised he had been standing. Professor Shrek asked what he was doing in the kitchens.  
“Oh, well, I was- I was hungry, obviously.” Why was he acting so flustered?  
“And ye couldn’t wait thirty minutes?”  
“Yes. No. Well, I mean, no - actually I could’ve waited but -” The Professor was an adult, he’d probably been in this situation, right? It was worth a shot. “Sir, do you know many hangover cures?” Shrek looked disappointed.  
“So ye‘re here with Page and them, then?”  
“Well,” David didn’t know why, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to the Professor, “yes.” It was odd; Shrek’s disappointment in David immediately translated into David’s disappointment in himself. His posture, even seemed to change, as he cringed very slightly. But something else was nagging his mind, and as Shrek shook his head and went about his business, David called out to him out of uncontrollable curiosity, “What about you?” The ogre turned around. “I mean,” David took on an apologetic tone, “what are you doing here?”  
“I’m just here to make sure the elves get to work on time.”  
“No, Professor, here.” He gestured widely. “At the castle. During the break. Don’t you - don’t you have a swamp and a family to get to?” Hoping he hasn’t offended him, David looked to Shrek, who sighed.  
“Yes, I have myself a nice little swamp. But my wife wanted to go to her parents’ place this time, and I just - someday soon you’ll have in-laws, David, then you’ll get it.”  
“Not too soon, I hope.” The joke fell flat, but the Professor gently shrekled at it to make David feel better.  
“It may seem far off now, but you’ll be amazed at how quickly your youth passes.”  
“Ahaha that’s cool - ”  
“Cherish it David.” Professor Shrek decided that that was the time to initiate intense eye contact.  
“And you’re one of the lucky ones, Professor.”  
“You think?” David was growing bolder.  
“Well, you have a wife, three children, property, and a job - all of which you love. How many of the other professors can say that they have that, even at twice your age? How many of us students will have that in another twenty years?”  
“It sounds like you’re scared that you won’t have those things.” David was taken aback. Since when was his Onionology teacher so observant? How had David never noticed such an obvious fear in himself? The ogre continued. “Don’t worry David, you’ll have no difficulty getting a wife.” What the hell was that supposed to mean? Even ignoring the sentiment of the statement, it was a little disarming to be called his first name by a professor. David was leaving.  
“Oh, dear, I forgot I - have to leave, bye.” Smooth as sandpaper, with the charisma of a rotting vegetable and the subtlety of a jackhammer. 

Elton didn’t know how much time had passed, but he hadn’t seen light since he set out. He was beginning to regret a lot of choices. But he had to keep his strength; he closed his eyes and let sleep take him. 

That afternoon was mostly spent getting everyone conscious and functional again. By supper, everyone was buzzing with excitement for that evening. As David strolled into the great hall, he balked for a moment, unsure of who to sit with. He couldn’t quite recall who it was that he regularly sat with, but they must have gone home. Traitor(s).  
He ended up sitting at what was usually the Slytherin table, where everyone was gathered, and had the good fortune to sit next to a few of Freddie’s friends, whom he generally liked. John Deacon was predictably reticent to talk about the last night, whereas Roger Taylor seemed unwilling to shut up about it. About ten minutes into his monologue, David was idly wondering if it was possible to use the killing curse on yourself.  
“And you’d never believe it from looking at him, but Roger Waters actually gives great head. Oh, and Daltrey? He tastes like-”  
“Wait,” David inquired, “whose idea was that anyway?” It was rude to interrupt, but he’d just learned more about both of those boys than he knew about everyone else in the school combined.  
“Um, lemme think. It was R- wait he’s not here. It was . . . Do you remember, John?” John spoke for the first time in several hours,  
“I believe it was J-”  
“Oh that’s right! It was John Paul Jones.”  
“What?” David hissed. “As in Jimmy Page’s one normal friend?”  
“Normal by Jimmy’s standards, maybe.”  
“As in sweet, innocent, delicate John, who’s never hurt anyone or had a single fuckbuddy?”  
“If you came last year, you’d know. That’s a ruse, David. Like, he’s a nice guy, and he hasn’t done half the shit most of his friends have done, but Jonesy is a freak. He’s just . . . a very discreet freak.”  
“Is this a joke?” Roger shook his head, gravely. Deacy added,  
“Yeah, he’s not Moon or Richards level crazy, but he’s done some shit.” David looked at Roger in disbelief.  
“Even Deacy knows? No offense.”  
“None taken.” John replied. “I only know because I’m his confidant.” David balked, today was one intense surprise after another. “He tells me his and his friends’ secrets, and all the secrets they know.” David started to doubt everything he ever thought he could be sure of. First the boy he only ever knew as “the innocent one” was as much of a perv as anyone, and now virginal church mouse John Deacon had dirt on the entire school?  
“Well? What has he told you?!”  
“I can’t tell you!” John was shockingly offended. “What kind of a friend- ”  
“Are you kidding?” But before they could continue, Jonesy himself approached them with a clipboard and a smile. A smile of lies.  
“The password is triquetra.” He said as he handed David the clipboard. Upon it, a list of Professors with markings next to their names. Professor Shrek had the most, obviously because he was the best. So David marked next to him, and passed the board on to Roger. Said boy asked the alleged freak,  
“So, what’s the prank this year?” And David knew he had made a grave mistake, but it was too late to change it.  
“Well, we have a few ideas, but I don’t think Jimmy’s going to commit until we can tailor it a little more to whomever gets chosen.”  
“Like there’s any question. Ugh, don’t you just hate him?”  
“I don’t hate anyone.” David wanted to puke. That fucking phony.  
“And he smells. Ew, and that stupid onion sculpture on his desk,” at that point John Paul Jones laughed in a way that seemed carefully calculated to be polite, but not quite cruel. That or David was paranoid and protective of his favorite teacher. But it had to be the first one, right?  
“Wait,” John Deacon stole everyone’s attention, probably for the first time since his conception, “the password to what?”  
“Oh, I forgot to mention, sorry! Party’s in the prefects’ bathroom tonight, and probably for the rest of the break. Turns out somebody” he looked at Roger, “irreparably stained the cushions of the Hufflepuff conversation pit.”  
“At whose suggestion?”  
“Point.” The rest of the evening proceeded pretty much as expected, but David couldn’t enjoy it without pitying Shrek somewhere in his heart, and silently praying that he wouldn’t be on the receiving end of some cruel joke by a horde of drunken children. 

David didn’t even know what day of the week it was. So much had happened; none of it seemed to matter. When a week and a half is nothing but unexpected, subversive, interesting events, then it all becomes expected, milquetoast, and downright boring. Someone handcuffed Jimmy to a faucet? Cool. They were filming tentacle porn? Awesome. A couple fights to the death? Yeah, sure. Ray found a book of sex spells in Headmaster Thatcher’s office? Neat. They were casting said spells on whomever happened to be in their sight line? Okay.  
This was how the majority of the break proceeded. Everyone was constantly wasted and horny and irresponsible, and by now David was a little sick of it. He abruptly yanked himself out of the orgy he had gotten himself into, downsizing it into a foursome, and walked out of the bathroom. He figured you weren’t supposed to be naked in the halls but, what, was a professor going to catch him? Please. They all knew to avoid the fifth floor during Christmastime.  
Apparently, David was wrong, as he turned a corner and immediately came face to face with the ogre he admired most. He wanted to die.  
“O-oh um, Professor, h-how are- why are you- what- um, I was just, uh, using the- have you seen, I seem to have misplaced my clothing.” He settled on the excuse rather lamely. Shrek just sighed.  
“David, what are ye doing?”  
“I don’t know.” He couldn’t help but answer honestly. The professor took his vest off and handed it to the boy, and while it was purely practical, something about the motion of it suggested sensual undertones that David didn’t want to acknowledge. He was probably just being paranoid again.  
“Thank you.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and he couldn’t tell how much of that was because his throat was raw and how much was sheer humiliation. As Shrek kindly guided him back to his dorms, he slowly gathered the courage to ask, “Professor, why are you being so nice?”  
“What’s that?”  
“Aren’t you supposed to be yelling at me for . . . y’know, everything?” David was so smitten, he forgot about his British accent. “I m-mean, I think I’ve broken every rule that there is, and yet, you haven’t, like, yelled at me or anything. W-what’s up with that?”  
“Do ye want me to punish ye?”  
“Well - no - but - maybe - actually - that isn’t the point.” Shrek let out another heavy sigh.  
“Listen, lad, ye’re too good for that band of deviants.” What? How could someone so insightful and clever be so wrong? “Just . . . find some new people, yeah? Ye’re only young once, spend that precious time with people ye like, right?”  
“I suppose. I just - no one my age is -”  
“Yeah, I can see that. Ye’re just very mature for yer age, David.” Shrek said to the hungover teenager wearing nothing but an oversized leather vest. “Just wait. When you’re an adult, more of your peers will actually be your peers.”  
“What about now though? What am I supposed to do if I need to be with people on my level?” He met Shrek’s eyes, and a moment passed before they both realized what they were thinking about, and Shrek abruptly decided that David could escort himself back to the dorms. 

There were only a few days left of break. The decadence had momentarily paused, although David was still unsure of why. As it turns out, the last leg of the break was dedicated to the illustrious prank, and everyone wanted to be on the top of their mental game.  
“So, the vote is decided. We’re doing Professor Shrek this year.” A round of applause went around the table, and David shared in it. He felt bad, but honestly he was excited. Yeah, it sucked that they were doing it to Shrek . . . but he could get over it, right? Plus, David didn’t want to think that Shrek was right. He could fit in with other teenagers, and here was the proof. His real friends were the attractive young things seated at the table, not the portly, middle-aged ogre currently wallowing in self-pity in his pathetic little office. Totally.  
“Ok, guys, ideas?” Pete prepared to write everything down on his stupid expensive matching stationary set. For the next several hours, students shouted their suggestions as Roger Waters, Jimmy Page, and occasionally Pete Townshend shot them down one by one.  
“Wash his clothes with itching powder.”  
“Basic.”  
“Sign him up for the British Ferret Association’s newsletter?”  
“Good, but we need something more immediate.”  
“Steal all his clothes while he’s showering?”  
“Ew.  
“Also does he shower at all?”  
“Set a fire in his office, and fill the fire extinguisher with gasoline!” Shrek didn’t have a wand, so this would work. Jimmy sighed.  
“Look, lads, I know that we’re not on top of our game since Keith and Bonzo aren’t with us.”  
“Because they’re at home.”  
“Yeah Pete. Anyway, my point is: we can do this guys. I refuse to believe,” oh cool, he was starting to sound angry, “that we as a collective cannot think of a single good idea.”  
“Well,” David raised his voice for the first time that afternoon, and everyone actually looked at him. “The goal is to fuck with something he loves, or to remind him of something he fears, right? So, what does he love, and what does he fear?” That set the room abuzz again.  
“He loves onions?”  
“Yeah obviously, think deeper.”  
“I think he’s scared of heights?”  
“According to what?”  
“I think,” David spoke again, and at least half of the table looked to him. “He’s scared of not being accepted on his own terms. And he seems to be on the verge of some kind of mid-life crisis, so, I feel like there’s a lot to work with there. Also, I think he’s avoiding his wife now that she’s pregnant.” The students chewed on that for a minute before Rick Wright, of all people, tentatively suggested the most convoluted scheme David had ever heard. Roger took a vote, and no one objected.

The plan, as it stood, was to purchase a surplus of baby dolls, and ogre them up using some illusory magic. The three seventh-years who had become the de facto leaders had started setting about buying the dolls; Pete told David not to worry about the details.  
Apparently they’d be taught how to do that kind of stuff later in their fifth year, so only the older kids knew how to do it. The horrifying part was the job given to David and his fellow younglings. They were to, using a complex sequence of spells which Jimmy insisted that they recite until memorized, command the small army of dolls to cram into the Professor’s closet and swarm him completely, after a few solo performances orchestrated by a few of the more talented younger students. The desired effect was a horror-movie-esque afternoon in which Shrek’s paralyzing fear of fatherhood manifested and attacked him.  
David was practicing his incantations; his loyalty began to sway. The way those dolls moved was creepy, as was the way the three ringleaders of this carnival of fear strolled throughout the practicing students, praising or critiquing what they saw. Roger seemed to enjoy the power, while Jimmy stressed himself out over micromanaging every little gesture and pronunciation. Pete tried to do both and succeeded at neither.  
It started to feel wrong, somehow. The attention David’s fellow students had to detail was frankly disturbing. Eric read a whole fucking novel about infant development and parenting and how ogre culture perceived these issues differently, and Jimmy kept stressing the importance of the little details, like the confused need in their eyes and the fact that they shouldn’t be able to crawl very fast, instead appearing where they need to be out of nowhere. This wasn’t a prank; it was a stranger-induced freudian nightmare, and David wanted nothing to do with it.  
But it kept nagging at him. Every time he saw Shrek, or even the color green in general, or heard a Scottish accent, or caught a whiff of onion, there was a subtle tugging at his heart. 

. He didn’t want to talk to Shrek again, lest they come once more in contact with that strange tension that had brewed betwixt them, but something within told him that he had to stick up for his senpai professor.  
Late at night, while Jimmy was busy “making it snow” in a last celebratory bout of dragon dust and a hand-held fan, David snuck into his dorm and dug through his chest. After about ten minutes and some severe panic, he found what he was looking for. The silvery scrap of fabric was much less soft than David expected, and yet somehow more flowing. As it made the arc from Jimmy’s chest into David’s book bag, the cloak rippled in the air as if he was holding solid water. He didn’t realize that solid water is just ice, because he wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, and Hogwarts’ common core was not the most scientifically robust.  
David crept out of the Slytherin quarters like a cat in the night, which isn’t far off from what was literally happening, and climbed up into the attic. Shrek, of course, had told him that the attic was empty, should he ever need a break from his insufferable peers. He used all of his witch crafts to create a lovely, decorated envelope, for his teacher, which simply had a black spot on the paper enclosed. David trusted that Shrek was fairly well-versed in the laws of pirates. 

That night, David was going to slip into Professor Shrek’s quarters, and place the note upon his pillow, where he surely wouldn’t miss it. Then, he would slip away, unseen in his stolen cloak, like tears in a communal shower. Shrek was bound to find the letter, understand the message- to flee- and would do so, being a sensible, sturdy, upstanding, well-built, muscular, tall- Jesus Christ. Anyway, the plan was that Shrek would leave the premises until the break was over, and this whole nightmare would end.  
Well, the plan didn’t go according to plan. As soon as David stepped into Shrek’s quarters, his schvantz sprung to life harder than it ever had, nearly hard enough to hurt. This caused the invisibility cloak to flutter in an unnatural-looking way, like there was a glitch in the matrix or whatever. God has that film even come out yet? Shrek unfortunately was always alert; and instantly threw himself at the ripple in reality. David tried to lunge backwards, but Shrek pinned him straight in the solar plexus. Throwing the cloak off, the Professor’s face took on a look of utter bewilderment.  
“David?” the usually patient tone of his voice when addressing his star pupil began to display a hint of anger. “Are ye seriously in me room, invisible, at this hour?” The wrath coupled with disbelief, which lead to outright outrage when he noticed David’s one-eyed purple headed yogurt slinger.  
“No, Professor, you don’t understand-”  
“David, ah’m only gonna tell ye this once: GET OUT OF ME LIVING QUARTERS, AND DO ET NOW!”  
“You don’t understand I was here to-” but before he could utter another word, the ogre had dragged him to the threshold by one scrawny ankle and hurled him into the cold, unforgiving hallway- it was like being born, rejected out of the onionific warmth and safety you had come to crave, unwillingly and unknowingly thrust into the harsh reality of the rest of the world, from which you would never be free.  
As David was fleeing through the halls, in the dead of night, he realized that the letter was no longer in his possession. Dear god, gods, whatever’s out there: please let him read the black spot. Please let him leave before that . . . thing happens. Please keep him from hating me. Please. He didn’t even believe in that shit; he knew he was being irrational. And yet, his heart was aflutter in the most ominous way. Almost like . . . an Iron Butterfly. 

The end of the holiday came and went uneventfully. David wouldn’t dare leave his dorms. He locked himself in there to study, and seldom exited. Every now and again Deaqi or Bernie or someone would remember to fetch him something to eat, but that was the zenith of his human contact. On several occasions, he gathered enough audacity to open the door to the empty hallway. But then he would hear a slight noise, and the mere thought that it may be Professor Shrek was enough to prompt him to shut the door with all of his puny strength and bolt.  
It was hopeless. After . . . that, how were things ever going to be the same with the Professor? They weren’t, they simply couldn’t be. If he wasn’t expelled, he’d certainly fail out of onionology. How disappointed Shrek must be. The only human pupil to ever show a genuine interest in onionology, and it turns out he was just a skeevy little perv. David couldn’t even imagine what it must be like for someone to feign interest in your passion just because they wanted to get into your nondescript, vaguely old-looking pantaloon things. He only hoped that the professor understood his intentions and forgave his hormones.  
The last day before the break concluded brought him some relief. Roger Taylor threw himself onto the common room’s most melodramatic divan that Sunday when he brought David breakfast. He rolled his eyes, “What’s wrong?” He asked Roger, right on cue. Said boy sighed.  
“I don’t want to talk about it.”  
“I’m not playing this game with you. You clearly want to tell me, but I’m only going to ask you once more. What’s wrong?” Roger shrugged, in a fair-enough sort of manner.  
“Professor Shrek fucking left.” David kept his expression guarded, careful not to flirt with false hope.  
“And this upset you because . . .?”  
“Don’t you get it Dave? We put all that work into pranking no one!”  
“Won’t it just go off whenever he gets back?” David knew Shrek would suffer in some capacity; that was the way of the world.  
“Ugh, that’s the worst fucking part- stupid fucking Jimmy set it off trying to see his reaction. Now we’ll never know.” David couldn’t believe his luck! He didn’t want to expect Shrek to forgive him, having discerned his purpose, but it was now more plausible, and that was reason enough to celebrate.  
“Did you prank anyone at all?”  
“Yeah, we just sorta filled Headmaster Thatcher’s office with Viking erotica books. But it isn’t the same.” As Roger went on, David started tuning him out, calming the utter discord that had been his thoughts for the past few days. 

Just when David thought that everything was settled, and there would be no more surprises, his “owl” brought him an envelope. A surprisingly familiar envelope. Opening it revealed a piece of parchment with a lone black ink spot in the middle of it. Attached was a single letter, written in familiarly blunt handwriting in familiar uniquely green ink.  
“Lad,  
Next time you try to save someone, and in life in general, make sure your mind and your body cooperate with each other. I won’t return until next week, for safety reasons, but I look forward to coming back. If only the rest of the students had your integrity.  
Yours,  
Professor S. D. Shrek.” He signed it yours! David had a hard time refraining from screaming, and clutched the letter close to his heart. On second thought, he raised it, inhaling the deep onionific musk of the paper. He didn’t really know the wider implications of anything that had happened, and at that moment, he didn’t care to. For once, he was really quite happy and eager for the future to unfold, and that was enough. 

Elton was thrilled. After what had felt like decades spent in delirium, a life of terror without warmth, light, food, companionship, or glitter, he was finally free. At this point, he didn’t care how far he fell, as long as he was no longer confined to the stony hell of Hogwarts’ ventilation system. He lifted the grate whence the light came and launched his emaciated body down to freedom.  
He landed, luckily, on a soft body upon a soft bed. Elton recognized one of his best friends, but two weeks with no companions except rats will do strange things to a boy’s social skills. Accordingly, Elton decided to announce himself by leaning into his friend’s ear, and whispering a simple, “Hi Bernie.”


End file.
